


57 Channels (and Nothing On)

by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyholic/pseuds/justacookieofacumberbatch
Summary: This was inspired by a story shared in a group chat by someone who will remain nameless, wherein a woman who was dog sitting was caught on camera doing some crazy things. Not the things Timmy ends up doing in the fic, but they inspired it nonetheless.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, Tim.” It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t even meant to say it. This was Timmy, the baby boy of the family down the hall, but that name fit the skinny sixteen year old who always left Armie’s stereo on hip hop after a weekend of dog sitting. That name didn’t fit the twenty-two year old who was standing in his hallway with chin-length curls coiffed to perfection in tailored grey pants and a soft-looking black sweater.

Tim-- Timmy offered a handshake. “Good to see you again, Mr. Hammer.”

The tips of Armie’s fingers caught on the hem of Timmy’s sleeve. It was as soft as it looked. Where did Timmy get it? “My God that makes me feel old. Come in.”

Timmy grabbed his overnight bag from the floor by his feet and walked in. Wow he looked different. College had been good to him. He’d somehow morphed from a scrawny teenager to a God-damned runway model. Awkward movements from a body not quite yet used to its size had somehow become downright graceful.

Armie waited for Timmy to walk through before shutting the door behind them and whistling for Archie. He could see Timmy’s body language change, his ears perk up, and Armie wondered if some small part of Timmy was anticipating the dog that Armie had six years ago even though that dog had died not long after the last time Timmy dog sat.

Archie pranced into the room and immediately started sniffing at Timmy’s pant leg. Timmy offered his palm to smell before scrubbing Archie between the ears. “Hello, you.”

Armie couldn’t help but smile at the easy camaraderie already forming there. He was glad he hired Timmy to dog sit for the week. It was more expensive than the kennel he’d been using (and it was a nice kennel), but he knew Timmy, and if he was responsible enough to keep his dog happy and alive six years ago, he certainly was now. Plus, it bought him brownie points with Timmy’s parents, who were eager to get him out of the house.

“I heard you graduated cum laude.”

Timmy stood, Archie’s front paws still perched on his knee. He shrugged with one shoulder, though his face brightened. “Theater major.”

“Still impressive.” Armie snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. Archie sat. “Well, it’s all pretty much the same. Please eat the shit in the fridge so I don’t have to throw it out.” Fresh sheets on the beds in my room and the guest room. 

“Still got the California King?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be sleeping.” Timmy gave Armie a playful punch on the arm, one so slow that Armie had plenty of chances to flinch before the fist made contact.

A smile played across Armie’s lips. “That’s fine. Have a good sprawl.”

Wow, that sounded stupid.

But Timmy chuckled nonetheless.

“Anyway.” Armie grabbed the extra keys off the kitchen counter and held them out for Timmy. “I’ll be back Thursday.”

Timmy gathered the keys into his fist, short nails scratching Armie’s palm. “See you Thursday.”

“Anyway.” _Quit saying anyway._ “I’d better head out.” He turned to leave. “Oh, I should mention, I had a couple security cameras installed since last time.”

Timmy made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a guffaw. “Did the building get more dangerous while I was away?”

“Homeowners insurance got more expensive. The cameras get me a discount.”

“And let you check in on the dog sitter.”

Armie chuckled. “Planning on getting in trouble?”

Timmy hugged his shoulders to his ears. “You gonna tell on me if I smoke a bowl on your balcony?”

Armie laughed, thought for a second, strode to the balcony.

“What?” Timmy asked.

Armie nodded him over and opened a little hutch, pulled out a small glass vacuum-sealed container and flicked open the clasp. He held it out for Timmy’s inspection. “Just don’t clear me out.”

Timmy peered in, obviously tempted. “Nah, man. I’m good.”

Armie shrugged and returned everything to its place. “Suit yourself, but I bet it’s better than what you have.”

Timmy shrugged, a shithead smirk on his face.

Armie clapped him on the back. “See you Thursday.”

***

Just as Armie was settling into a room service burger and whatever movie was on TCM, he got a text.

_My shit is better._

Armie chuckled, licked the burger grease from his fingers, and tapped out a reply. _Doubtful._

_Everyone here agrees with me._

_I don’t think I authorized a party._

Timmy sent back a shrug emoji, and Armie was sure Timmy was fucking with him. He was certain of it, but he just had to check to make sure.

He grabbed his laptop and logged into the security camera to find Timmy on the couch, stocking feet perched on one arm, Archie on his lap. He was watching TV and eating leftover lo mein with his fingers.

He fed Archie a noodle.

_Archie’s not allowed on the couch._

Armie saw Timmy notice the message, wipe his hand on his shirt, and pick up the phone. He saw the crinkle of confusion appear on his forehead before the metaphorical light bulb appeared above it. He peered around, though he never made direct eye contact with the camera. They weren’t obvious. Security cameras might save him on his insurance, but they were also ugly as sin. He bought the most discreet ones he could find.

Eventually, Timmy gave up and flipped the entire room the middle finger.

Armie giggled.

***

Armie texted Timmy on the way to his first meeting of the day, just to check in, and he didn’t think about it again until he was on his way back to the hotel mid-afternoon for a rest and a shower before a dinner meeting. He’d almost forgotten he’d even sent the text until he collapsed into the back seat of the car and pulled his phone from his breast pocket.

Plenty of other emails and texts and voicemails to attend to, but nothing from Timmy.

 _Everything all right?_ he sent and went back to his other messages.

But as he rode the elevator up, he couldn’t help but chew the side of his mouth as he turned the phone over and over in his hand. Timmy was a grown man. He could handle himself. He probably was just busy with auditions, or—it was dinner time already in New York—maybe he was out with friends. There was nothing to worry about.

But still, once the door to his room was open and his shoes were off, he went straight for the laptop.

As there were only two cameras, one in the main living area and one in Armie’s bedroom, it didn’t take long for Armie to find Archie asleep on the couch and Timmy sprawled face down on top of the covers of Armie’s bed. He squinted at the screen, wary of any small movements that would indicate that Timmy was alive and well.

God, had he always been this paranoid?

Finally, Timmy’s feet lifted from the bed and curled towards his hips. His knees parted, and he did what Armie could only define as a hump against the bed. Perhaps that wasn’t the best word when the technique resembled the movements of a snake more than a spring-loaded toy, but Armie still couldn’t shake away the words, _Timmy’s humping my bed_.

As the moments ticked by, Timmy only gained enthusiasm until Armie saw Timmy reach between himself and the bed, fiddle with the button on his jeans.

Armie panicked. He shoved the computer away and fumbled with his phone, pressing send on Timmy’s number before he realized he was doing it. Why was that his instinct? What did he think he was doing? Was it some urge to warn Timmy that Armie knew what he was doing? What kind of messed up urge was that?

He didn’t have much time to think on it because Timmy was hopping up from the bed and tossing a plaid bundle into Armie’s hamper as he scrambled to answer the phone.

“Hey. What’s up?” Timmy sounded breathless.

Armie slammed the laptop shut, cringing at the sound. “Just, um, checking in.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“No!” Armie cringed again. _Rein it in, Hammer_. “I just—“

“Relax, man. I’m fucking with you. Everything’s fine. I took Archie to the dog park today. You didn’t tell me he’s a chick magnet.”

“They were just using him as an excuse to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well…”

They were silent for a long time. Empires rose and fell in the amount of time they spent not talking.

“Well, I should go. Lotsa work to do.” _Lotsa?_ “Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure thing,” Timmy replied, and after another Pinter pause, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Armie couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this much of an idiot.

***

Armie woke up--well, woke up was generous; his alarm went off--and immediately covered his face with both hands. He’d called Timmy last night to interrupt him masturbating. That was ridiculous. He should have just closed the window and went about his night and perhaps gently brought it up on his return. What was wrong with him?

With an anguished groan, Armie rolled over and off the bed, anything to gain him momentum up and into the bathroom after the crappy night’s sleep worrying about his young neighbor alone in his apartment doing God knew what. He grabbed his laptop for his usual morning news and emails, flipped on the bathroom lights, squinted at them, and set the laptop on the countertop. As it woke up, he got undressed and set the water in the shower to warm up.

He typed in his password, ready to tap his way to his favorite livestream, but soon after the screen lit up, it brought him a live image of Timmy in Armie’s bedroom, and the first thing Armie saw was thighs. Thighs that could only be described as milky. They looked smooth and strong.

Soon, the edges of his tunnel vision bloomed, and the full picture hit him, right in the sternum. Timmy had on a red and black flannel shirt, hiked up under his arms. His back was to the camera, and given how high the camera in his bedroom was, that was quite a feat. His back was hunched, the crown of his head pressed to the bed, and Armie couldn’t tell from this angle, but it appeared that Timmy had one hand working his cock and the other with some number of fingers up his ass. And he was riding them like a God-damned stallion.

Armie could hear tiny, high-pitched grunts through the speaker, which he immediately muted because, God, if he could hear that over the shower, his neighbors might be able to, too.

But he didn’t turn it off. He stood, stooped over the counter with steam filling the room, and watched the whole sordid affair unfold. He watched Timmy’s movements morph from languid to violent. He watched Timmy flip over, hair clinging to his forehead, and grab his cock with both hands. He watched one hand disappear between Timmy’s legs. Whether to fondle his balls or finger himself, Armie didn’t know.

But he really wanted to know.

Timmy thrust up into his fist, which was jerking frantically, and each moment that went by, Armie found himself thinking _not yet, not yet, not yet_. 

He could see the moment when Timmy hit the point of no return. His body stuttered and then jumped into double time. His hips climbed up as his heels dug into the bed, slipped a couple times, and it was only a moment’s work before Timmy was coming, impressively long-ranged spurts pulsing from his cock as his hips slowly returned to the earth. His limbs flopped akimbo to the bed, and Armie saw him heave a great sigh.

Armie didn’t realize he’d mirrored it until after it was over.

After a moment, Timmy lifted his head off the bed. He slowly worked himself up to his elbows, but then his hands were suddenly on his shirt, holding it away from his body. He stared down at it.

He stared a little more. Or at least Armie assumed that was what he was doing.

And then Timmy flopped back down, this time with both hands over his face. Soon after, he flung himself from the bed, and it was only when he saw it fall too far beyond Timmy’s hips that Armie realized the shirt was his own.

It was lucky that hotels have a seemingly limitless supply of hot water because otherwise, Armie’s would have been long cold by the time he stopped gaping at his computer.

***

Mid-afternoon, after he’d asked a client to repeat himself quite a few times due to his inability to _stop thinking about it_ , Armie pulled up his latest texts with Timmy.

 _I have two cameras_ , Armie typed.

He flipped on airplane mode, slipped the phone into his breast pocket, and did his level best to focus.


	2. Chapter 2

Armie’s hands shook as he pulled the phone from his pocket. He’d managed to wait until he got back to the hotel, but the moment the elevator doors closed, he couldn’t stand it for another second. He turned off airplane mode and watched the notifications flood in. He didn’t want to scroll through everything, so he went straight to Timmy’s thread.

There was only one message.

_I know._

Was that really it? That told Armie nothing. Did he assume that Armie had seen what he had seen? Or did he assume he was in the clear? Maybe he assumed the times he was jerking off were times Armie would be otherwise occupied. Maybe he figured Armie wouldn’t put a camera in his own bedroom. Maybe he was perfectly aware of what Armie saw. Maybe _I know_ was his cheeky way of saying so. Maybe he wanted Armie to know that he knew. Maybe it was meant as a show.

No, that was stupid.

Armie flipped over his phone, followed the valleys of the etching on his case with his thumb. He loosened his tie and popped open the button underneath. He kicked off his shoes.

 _“_ Here we go,” he muttered to himself as he pressed send on Timmy’s number.

Timmy answered on the third ring, with a calm, noncommittal, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Armie’s voice came out with some effort.

The silence that came after made Armie want to fling himself out the window.

“So, um…” Timmy started. “I’m sorry if I—“

“What are you wearing?” Armie’s face fell into his hand. _What are you wearing?_ What was he thinking?

“I… What?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. Please.”

“Just jeans and a hoodie. Nothing special.”

Armie grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Timmy’s breath ruffled the speaker. “You can see for yourself. If you want.”

Armie’s heart could have won the pommel horse.”Is… that what you want?”

Armie felt sure he could hear Timmy’s shrug through the phone. “Yeah.”

“All right.” Armie pulled his computer off the room’s desk and sat on the edge of the bed. He carefully perched it on his lap, opened it up, typed in his password. All while silent. All while no part of his body would stay still.

Finally, he opened the window and found Timmy standing in his bedroom, wearing jeans and grey hoodie, just like he’d said. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Timmy volleyed back.

“Should we talk about what I saw?”

Timmy cocked his head. “Why? What did you see?”

“Well, um… this morning…”

Timmy grinned.

Armie’s forehead fell to his palm. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you.”

Timmy shrugged. “Yeah. I have a pretty good idea what you saw.”

“Do you want to just forget about it?”

“Do you?”

Armie watched Timmy on the screen. He didn’t know what to say to that. True, he’d been thinking about Timmy all day. Drifting off during meetings to dream of Timmy wearing his flannel shirt, letting the imagined sound of Timmy’s moans drown out the drivel. But he’d also known Timmy since he was a scrawny, rowdy teenager, and Armie found it hard to believe some part of himself wouldn’t always see him that way. Even if four years of education had done wonders for him. It felt inappropriate, like he’d be betraying the trust of Timmy’s parents. 

Timmy fiddled with his phone for a moment before setting it on the bedside table. Then he hooked his elbows to the hem of his hoodie and pulled it and the shirt beneath it over his head.

“What are you doing?”

Timmy kicked off his shoes as he undid his jeans. “Being unequivocal.”

“Oh.”

Timmy shoved his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and then stood to step out of them. He sat again to take off his socks. It all felt like Armie simply happened to spot him getting undressed for a shower. It was very methodical, just a means to get Timmy naked, not a means to itself. He wasn’t teasing or seducing. He was… what, exactly? Presenting what was on offer?

“Why?” Armie asked.

“Because…” Timmy cleared his throat. “I’m here if you want it, but I’ve spent enough of my life wondering if you do.”

“Um…” Armie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know where that came from. He didn’t even know what that meant. Well, he knew what he hoped it meant, and the thought of that set his heart racing.

“It seems like you’re interested, but if not, just tell me to get dressed, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.”

Armie ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish I had your confidence.”

Timmy guffawed. “This isn’t confidence. This is insanity.”

Armie shrugged, forgetting for a moment that Timmy couldn’t see him. Was it really insane if he was right? “It’s not so crazy.”

“It’s not?” Timmy sounded incredulous.

“No.”

“Meaning?”

Armie took a deep breath. Held it a moment. “I’m interested.”

Timmy bit his bottom lip around a grin. His fingertips slid across his abdomen. His cock, flaccid until this point, gave a visual pulse. _Oh, God._

“What do you want to do now?” Armie asked.

Timmy piled the pillows at the head of the bed and reclined against them, legs sprawled. He stared straight at the camera. “What are you wearing?”

“Suit.”

“Sexy.”

Armie hummed in return, too preoccupied with Timmy’s gaze directly on his to know what he was agreeing to. “When did you find the camera?”

“Yesterday.”

Armie swallowed to keep his organs from crawling out his throat. “So this morning…”

Timmy pulled his knees to his chest, curled his toes into the comforter. “I figured it was early there; you wouldn’t be watching, but I liked thinking that you might be.” 

“I was.”

Timmy grinned. “I know.”

Armie generally considered himself pretty smooth. He hadn’t had many relationships that last beyond a few weeks, but he never had trouble finding a new one. And he never had trouble finding someone to pass the night with him when he was on one of his many business trips. He could schmooze and seduce and dirty talk with the best of them, but now he was rendered dumb by the kid who used to watch his dog.

“So… did you want an encore, or…” Timmy slid his palms against the comforter, from his hips to his toes and back again.

“Sure,” Armie said for fear more words would only reveal the frog in his throat.

“You don’t sound too enthused.”

“Sorry.”

Timmy’s face scrunched up. “Are you just trying to spare my feelings or somet—“

“No!” Armie felt himself flush. That came out quicker and louder than he intended. “It’s just”—it’s just what?—“weird, I guess.”

“Because it’s a security camera or because it’s me?”

Should he tell Timmy about the girlfriend who refused to stay over at his apartment because of the cameras? “Both, I guess?”

Oh God. Wrong thing, wrong thing, wrong thing.

“Not because— Shit. Not because I don’t want you. I just… God, Tim. You hit me like a ton of bricks. You left for college this seventeen-year-old kid, and then you show up on my doorstep looking…”

_Gorgeous. Sexy. Fuckable._

“... like a fucking Byronic hero. Like Oscar Wilde’s wet dream.”

Timmy burst into wheezing laughter, fingers curled over the soles of his feet. “Oscar Wilde’s wet dream.”

“What? It’s true.”

Timmy raised a brow. “He’s a little old for me.”

Armie snorted. “So am I.”

“Please. I’ve seen you with men younger than I am now.”

“Five years ago.”

Timmy shrugged.

Armie chuckled to himself, not entirely without mirth but not exactly mirthful. “Your parents are going to murder me.”

“It’s none of their business who I fuck. I’m twenty-two, not sixteen.”

Armie didn’t know what to say to that. He seemed to be thinking that a lot tonight.

“Besides.” Timmy stretched and fell back to the pillow, knees still bent and knocking against each other in midair. He peered around them to look straight at the camera. “I’m worth it.”

Armie licked his lips, though his mouth had gone too dry for it to do any good. “Are you really?”

Timmy nodded, skating his fingertips over his stomach. “Mm hm.”

Armie’s face heated. His fingertips tingled. “How so?”

Timmy spun around, the long line of his spine square to the camera, his ass cheeks forming a heart with the muscles in his back. As if that weren’t enough, after a moment’s pose Timmy crawled his hands forward and dropped to his elbows. His back perfectly straight. His thighs sinewy. His cock and balls hanging heavy beneath him. His perfect pink asshole.

Armie couldn’t help but stare at it. He couldn’t help but stare at it and rest his palm against his groin. He couldn’t help but stare and work open his belt and button and shove a hand down his pants just to feel himself pulse. He didn’t even notice Timmy’s hand moving beneath it until long fingers slid up into Armie’s field of vision and covered him up.

Armie’s gaze snapped to Timmy’s face. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“Finger yourself.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that, but Timmy was already pressing the pad of his middle finger against himself. “There’s lube in the bedside table.”

Timmy reached for it, and Armie experienced a moment of panic as he remembered some of the other items in the drawer. He hoped that at least the nipple clamps and the cuffs had scooted their way to the back of the drawer.

He hoped when he heard Timmy’s grunting moan that Timmy had seen them.

Timmy squeezed a stripe of lube into his middle two fingers, slicked the skin along his cleft, and then slid his middle finger in. There was no struggle or careful finesse to it. Timmy’s ass swallowed it.

He slid his finger in and out a few times, and before Armie knew it, Timmy had two fingers in his ass, rocking his hips against his hand. He slid languidly, making his breath break each time he pulled his hips forward. Armie wanted to crawl through the screen of his laptop and replace Timmy’s fingers with his own. God, it was all he could do not to hump his computer. Instead, he sat frozen, one hand down his pants, his cock pulsing against it, leaking rhythmic beads of precome.

“Do you like it?” he panted, voice half muffled by the comforter.

“Yeah,” Armie breathed.

Timmy rubbed his face against the bed, flipped his head to face away from the camera. “Oh God, please tell me you’re touching yourself.”

Armie finally moved his hand, sliding his fingers up the underside, making himself shiver before seating himself in the tunnel of his fist. He rubbed the tip of his cock against the wet spot inside his underwear. He bet Timmy was so slippery and soft. He bet a little tease over Timmy’s rim, a little slide from perineum to the crest of buttocks, would feel amazing.

“Yeah.” Armie thrust into his hand. “Take your fingers out. Show me your hole.”

“Oh fuck.” Timmy did as asked, immediately reaching for his cock, and Armie almost got distracted by it.

“How does it feel? Does it feel empty?”

Timmy thrust into his own fist. He nodded, moaning his assent.

“I bet you need someone to fill it up.”

“Fuck yeah.” The bed squeaked.

“You want me to fill it up for you?” Oh fuck, Armie was getting close. He yanked his hand out of his boxers and clamped it around the edge of the laptop.

“Yes,” Timmy panted. “Yes.”

He could hear the laptop creak under the force of his fingers. “What do you want?”

“Your cock.” Timmy’s knees dropped down. His gluts squeezed tight, released, squeezed. “Oh fuck, I want your cock. Give it to me, give it, gi— Oh, I’m coming.” Timmy shivered. His toes curled. He pressed his forehead to the bed. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Timmy fucked his hand for a few more moments, easing to a stop only to skid and stutter at the end. And somehow, even though he was already practically flat to the mattress, he collapsed. He let out one relaxed groan and rubbed the insides of his thighs against the bed.

Holy shit, that was incredible. Armie could only stare, dumbfounded. His cock screamed for affection, but he ignored it. He wanted to stew.

After a few moments, Timmy’s body began to tense. “Armie?”

“Yeah.” Armie cleared his throat. “I’m here.”

He peered over his shoulder, actually most of his body, to look at the camera. “Well?”

“Worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, eh?
> 
> Many thanks to shamelessmash for the beta.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to shamelessmash for the beta. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Sorry for the long hiatus. I appreciate the worry that has shown up in comments and messages, and I can assure you I'm doing fine. Just darn busy.
> 
> Edit: Forgot to mark this as multi-chapter. Whoopsie!


End file.
